Some like it hot
by nighttimerunner
Summary: Based on a prompt: What if Caskett had been locked into an oven instead of a freezer?


**A/N: Thank you Katherine for the prompt and the betaing. :)**

**_Prompt: What if Caskett had been locked into an oven instead of a freezer?_**

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**Some like it hot**

"Castle. Door. Go!"

Bullets fly by his head as he runs towards the door while Beckett covers for him. She follows him inside and pulls the door closed behind her. They stare at the door - Beckett with her gun raised - as they wait for the gunmen.

He wonders briefly how many bullets she still has in her gun and how many she will need to get rid of the bad guys.

He alternates between watching the door and her. She's so hot when she stands like that, poised and ready to shoot. His gaze drifts from her shoulders to her back and he imagines her lean muscles working as she keeps the stance.

Just as he's getting to the good part on his downward journey, there's a loud bang coming from the other side of the door. He startles and gasps and smells bacon. _Huh._

He turns his head to take in their surroundings for the first time and notices something in the far corner of the room. Curious, he decides to take a closer look. He feels a bit hungry and they might be in here for a while if Beckett's grunts, as she shoves against the door, are anything to go by. Maybe they got lucky and were locked into a food storage.

But as he gets closer to the mysterious object, he sees that it's a rolled up carpet with two feet sticking out from one end.

Suddenly he registers how hot the room feels and his writer's brain fills in the blanks quickly.

Jamal missing.

Gunmen's lair.

Uncomfortably hot room.

Smell of bacon.

_Oh, this is not good. This is _so_ not good._

After an hour, he's starting to see the silver lining. Sure, he's thirsty as hell, sweating like a pig and feeling lightheaded. But who cares about any of that when Beckett is sitting in front of him in nothing but a white t-shirt and underwear.

Her eyes are closed and his gaze is riveted to her mouth when her pink tongue slips out to wet her lips. Her head is thrown back as she leans against the wall, exposing the perfect column of her throat. He sees a bead of sweat start its passage down from her jawline and he swallows thickly as his eyes follow the lucky drop until it disappears inside her shirt.

He bites back a groan and smothers the urge to reach across the space between them and run his fingers down the same path.

"You look uncomfortable in that shirt, Beckett. Maybe you should take it off."

She lifts her head and opens her eyes only to roll them at him.

"I didn't do it the previous ten times you suggested it, so what makes you think that I'd do it now?" she scoffs at him but he isn't discouraged.

Her reaction has been the same with every item of clothing and she has taken them all off. So, determined, he continues.

"Come on, Beckett, I'm serious. Even though the shirt is nice and thin, I'm sure you would feel much better without it."

She still doesn't look convinced. _Hm... Time to try a different approach._

"We're both adults here. And besides, I'm already in my boxers. Think of it as leveling the playing field. If you won't do it for your own comfort, do it so I won't feel so alone in my state of undress."

He gives her the adorable puppy eyes to get the point across and then tries not to flinch when she fixes him with _the look_.

But then she smiles almost bashfully and he does an internal fist pump when her fingers reach for the hemline of her shirt.

He can see her toned stomach and is waiting for the next exposed part when the movement of the shirt stops.

It takes him a moment to lift his eyes to her face.

She doesn't say anything, but the smirk and the arched eyebrow speak volumes. He quickly puts on his poker face and waves a hand at her body.

"It's not like I haven't seen it all before," he says with an air of nonchalance and pointedly does _not_ look at her.

But his gaze is drawn back to her when she finishes removing the shirt in one fluid movement.

"You have a tattoo."

It's stupid, but it's the only sentence his brain is able to put together. It's true that he has seen _a lot_ of naked women in his life, but Kate Beckett in lace…

He had no idea.

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_I really like prompts. So, if you have an idea for a ficlet or something longer, PM me here or find me on tumblr (thetuulip)._


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